On the third anniversary of the idiocy that started Brexit, and with the UK poised to appoint its most inept, offensive, self-absorbed and unprincipled political liar to “lead” the country out of the EU, it seemed appropriate to re-post this, especially if you are British in Belgium and would like to read this account of becoming Belgian.
Waking up on the morning of June 24th this year was -I imagine- a pretty grim experience for most British people living on the European mainland, myself included. Not least, because having been away from Britain for over fifteen years, I had not been entitled to vote in the referendum that would affect my status in the place I now consider to be my home.
I understand fully that the consequences for the 1.2 million Britons living outside the UK but within Europe, would most likely have been far from the minds of UK dwelling voters who do not have valued family connections to Europe – although it was pretty painful to learn that rights you had taken for granted had also been voted away even by people you thought of as your nearest and dearest. However, I did wonder what sort of image voters might have of us, were they fleetingly to consider…
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